


Piñon Pine and Sage

by Thalius



Category: Halo (Video Games) & Related Fandoms
Genre: F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Infinity Park Date, Mild Blood, Post-Halo 4, the atrium is where everyone goes to make out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-18
Updated: 2017-12-18
Packaged: 2019-02-16 20:10:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13061292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thalius/pseuds/Thalius
Summary: John and Kelly ruminate over past choices and sacrifices.





	Piñon Pine and Sage

**Author's Note:**

> This is a very loose continuation of [Reunion](http://archiveofourown.org/works/12789354), just with more overt shipping involved.

_Infinity's_ Atrium wasn't anything like Reach; the smell of the pine trees had an acrid, strange tint to them, and the air was too dry. The grass underneath his boots wasn't nearly long or lush enough, and if he squinted hard, he could see the steel walls of the ship that the trees did their best to hide. Most of all, when he looked up, thick glass and metal plating, not open stars and blue sky, were what he found.

But the echo was still there, familiar enough to make him ache with homesickness. He hadn't walked an open field without a rifle in his hand in what felt like decades, and the absence of his armour and weapons was all he needed to be reminded of home. And then there was Kelly beside him, quiet and sure and exactly as how he'd remembered her.  _He_  was the one who was different, and he could see it in her face when she looked at him, as best as she tried to hide it.

"Wonder if the trees are sturdy enough to climb here," she said beside him. Apparently he wasn't the only one thinking of home.

"Not sure the groundskeepers would appreciate it," he replied.

She gave him a cheeky grin. "And when has that ever stopped us before?"

"Can't use the 'I'm twelve' excuse anymore," he said, amused.

"It's part of our new Spartan training regimen," she explained, quick and smooth enough he almost believed the lie himself. "We can go chat with Commander Palmer if it's an issue,  _ma'am."_

"You were always too good at that." He glanced over his shoulder surreptitiously, feeling his mouth twitch into a smile.

She bumped shoulders with him. "And it looks like you're still a handy scout."

"Survival tactic." He looked back at her, smiling fully now. "Had to cope with all the trouble you got us into somehow."

Her gait shifted, a bounce-skip breaking up her regular step, and he knew she was gearing up to run somewhere. "So no climbing, then. But I'll race you for tomorrow's coffee run. That evergreen," she indicated with a finger. "Just there."

"That's not—" She took off before he could finish, and he dug his heels into the paved stone to follow her off the walking path. "— _fair!"_  he called after her.

Her laughter peeled out behind her, an answer and a challenge all at once, and she matched his every step with three of her own. Winning a flat out race against her was an impossibility, but it felt like a double loss for him not to at least  _try_. He picked up his pace, taking care not to leave any large holes in the grass with his heels, which of course Kelly hadn't bothered to afford the same courtesy. He avoided the stray chunks of sod and gathered as much speed as he could. He might even make it close enough to get within an arm's length of her, but—

A burning spike flared up his side, from his ribs all the way to his collarbone, and it was sudden enough to make him stagger. The pain hit him hard and knocked the wind out of him, searing the skin under the bandages beneath his shirt. He slowed and tucked his arm into his ribs, reducing his speed to a jog.

"John?" he heard her call, and then at once she was back beside him again, hands grabbing his bicep and her smile replaced with a deep furrow of concern. "What—what's wrong?"

"I'm fine," he said in reflex, and stopped. She pulled the hem of his PT shirt up a few inches, and then swore when she saw the sterile white of the bandages.

"I'm an idiot," she muttered, shaking her head. "You've been here less than a week, and I'm forcing you to—"

"Not forcing. And I passed medical," he added. She let his shirt drop and frowned.

"Enough to allow them to discharge you from the medical bay," she said. "But not for regular duty. I knew seventy-two hours wasn't enough. I wasn't… I wasn't thinking."

"It's past seventy-two hours," he argued. "And I'm—"

"Still not fit for service yet," she interrupted. "Let's just—go sit."

"Kelly—"

"Come on," she ordered, her fingers digging into his forearm, and he found himself unable to argue with her. "By the pines."

She lead them past the first line of trees, into the small forest that ringed the Atrium. He could see the grey steel of the ship more easily now that they were under the cover of the evergreens, cold and hard and  _not_  the open expanse of wilderness he'd temporarily convinced himself that it had been. Judging from the upset look on Kelly's face, she'd been caught up in the nostalgia of it, too.

"Sit," came the second order, and he obeyed. Kelly sat down beside him and immediately pulled up his shirt again, frowning at the bandages. "Blood," she observed, pressing a gentle finger to his pectoral.

"I just pulled some stitches. I've had worse." He gently grabbed her wrist, forcing her hand away, and she relented after a moment of chewing her lip.

Kelly sighed and fisted her fingers over top of her thighs. "I  _know_  that. Doesn't make it okay."

"We can visit the med bay after," he said, stretching his legs out in front of him and leaning back on his elbows in the grass. "Later, though. It's nice here."

Kelly considered the compromise. He could see her mulling it over, glancing between the bloom of crimson that was hidden beneath his shirt and the path they'd run from beyond the trees.

"I'm okay," he insisted. "Really. Just had the wind knocked out of me. Let's sit here for a while."

Kelly nodded, more to herself than him, and finally settled into the grass with a heavy sigh. "It  _is_ nice," she said, stretching her legs out beside his. "Reminds me of Reach, a little."

"Thought so too."

She nudged his shoulder. "Still won, by the way."

He rolled his eyes. "In a very rigged race."

She returned the gesture, but there was a smile on her face. "And you're still a poor loser."

He decided it was best not to respond to that. He turned his palm over instead, fingers splayed out in the grass, and he felt Kelly's hand fit into his. Her thumb ran over his knuckles, her skin padded with callus but still warm and familiar. The contact was nourishing, and he shifted closer to her. She pressed into him in response, her head dipping to nod against his. This was the first time she'd dared to touch him normally; after barrelling into him on  _Infinity's_  bridge and knocking the wind out of him four days ago, she'd been treating him like glass, sneaking in only the lightest of touches and giving him a wide berth of personal space. He supposed some of it was warranted, given that he couldn't even run those thirty metres to the pines without pulling stitches, but he'd forgotten how much the warmth of her hand grounded him.

Her hand tightened around his. "I missed you," she whispered into his temple, voice soft in the trees.

He pulled back to meet her eyes, which were filled with a mournful intensity that pained him to look at. The time away had been long and incredibly hard, but he'd skipped almost five years of it. Their mission above Reach still felt immediate, and even more fresh were all the deaths that had followed. He was jumbled, still trying to catch up to her— _always_  trying to catch up to her—when she'd already processed and dealt with his absence for a long, long time.

He didn't know how to say all of that to her, so he leaned forward and kissed her instead. The reaction from Kelly was instantaneous; he heard a deep rumble in her chest, almost a sob, and she pulled herself tight against his body, arm around his neck and clinging to him as if this was the last time they'd be doing this. In truth, he couldn't remember the last time they  _had_  properly kissed, alone and unrushed and off-duty.

_Too long._

John threaded his fingers into her hair. He would almost be amused by her explosive response if it didn't feel so desperate and afraid. He pulled away only enough to say something, to reassure her that he wasn't going anywhere, but even then she followed him, stealing a few more kisses before she let them separate. Her breath blew onto his cheek, her face so close that her eyes were a blue blur. "It's okay," is what he finally said, and another soft, rumbling sob came out of her.

"It is now," she replied. He pulled them both down so they were lying in the grass and held her close. She still clung tightly to him, with her hands fisted in his shirt and her forehead pressed against his. "You can't leave again."

"I won't," he said into her hair, tightening his arm around her waist.

"Good." She kissed him again, a gentle press of her mouth, and one of her hands came up to rest on his chest, over the patch of red his pulled stitches had caused. "Because I won't let you."

He chuckled at that, and it was his turn to kiss her now. "There's no place else for me."

"Glad we're on the same page."

They kept close as they listened to the sounds of the trees. There were no birds or wind to rustle the branches or fill the air with noise, but he could hear the trunks creak every so often as the ship shifted, and there was the distant sound of an artificial pond bubbling somewhere in the park. It was not the vibrant, untamed jungles surrounding Big Horn River, but it was peaceful. He let let himself relax into Kelly, the grass murmuring faintly beneath them whenever they moved. His skin throbbed beneath his bandages, enough to keep him from drifting off to sleep, but he didn't want to move. He also didn't want to give Kelly the satisfaction of being right—not yet, anyway.

At some point, he heard her exhale and then pause, holding her breath for a moment before breathing in normally again. John could pretend he hadn't heard it, and cling to whatever distant memory this unfamiliar park brought on a while longer, and he knew she would let him. But she deserved his full attention.

"What is it?"

"You made the best tactical decisions you could while trying to protect Reach," she began into the fabric of his shirt. "And I don't regret supporting them."

John pulled back to look at her, hearing the unsaid words she'd left hanging between them. "I didn't like separating Blue Team, not at all," he told her, and she gave him a pained smile. "But—"

"You had to," she finished. "I know. And I suppose it all worked out in the end, as well as it could."

"There's another but," he said.

"But there's not that many of us left," she replied after a moment. He winced, and Kelly touched her fingers to his jaw. "And I don't us to be split up again."

He reached up and grabbed her hand. "I don't either," he murmured. "I've already left too many people behind."

"You did what you had to," she said, and again he found her words to be so strong and sure that it was difficult not to believe a more soothing version of the truth. But it would be yet another failing to accept it, and it wasn't a comfort he could enjoy when he'd failed so many people—Keyes, Johnson, everyone on Ivanoff, and… Cortana most of all.

"And you couldn't leave me behind if you tried." Kelly's words brought him back into the present. She was smiling at him, warm and immediate and alive. He wanted to tell her the reason she could even have this conversation with him was because of Cortana, and the sacrifice she made to honour their promise to each other—the one he  _broke_ —but once again he was unable to get the words out. It felt too private and raw still, and he didn't know if that feeling would ever go away. It hurt the way he remembered Sam's death hurting, stripping a piece away he knew he wouldn't get back.

But Kelly would keep the remaining pieces together. And that would have to be enough.

"I know," he finally replied, pulling her in tight and pressing his cheek into her hair. "Not ever."

**Author's Note:**

> I know the john/cortana and john/kelly ships tend to be mutually exclusive in this fandom, but they both hold a significant place in John's life. Kelly's a steady rock John knows he can always lean on, and her the same, and I feel like he would want to share the bond he had with Cortana with Kelly at some point, even if it's not right away (I know Halo 5 happened and sort-of-kind-of addressed this, but... well, that's another conversation). Cortana played her own significant role in John's own emotional development, even in such a short period of time, and she filled the hole Blue Team left during the Halo campaign with something unique and entirely her own. I don't mean to start discourse or anything over this, and I even debated saying something about it in the first place, but I do think both relationships can exist in meaningful ways simultaneously, even if they're very different, and I would love to delve more into that dynamic once I'm not so busy with school and work.
> 
> I might also do a more in-depth version of their initial conversation after reuniting, since I think it deserves a more fleshed out story, but I wanted to get something out before exams and the holidays take me out, so here we are!


End file.
